In the long, quiet stretches between visitors, I help Haley. Leo makes semi-regular excuses to go pretend to work in his office so we can talk. He’s never gone for long.
“This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” Haley admits one morning.
“Taking care of her?”
“No. Abby’s perfect. It’s existing that’s hard. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be able to sit up by myself again.”
“You will,” I promise her.
“Oh, look.” Haley’s voice goes high and awed. “She’s yawning. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“She’s a miracle.”
Haley’s painkillers from the surgery make her tired. Her eyelids are drooping when Leo asks her if there’s anything she wants. Anything at all.
Abby’s just finished nursing, and Haley lets her head fall back on the pillows. “I want a nap. Do you want to hold her, Eva?”
“Literally always.” I take the warm, sleepy bundle from Haley’s arms and tuck her against my chest. “We won’t go far.”
Haley’s breathing deep by the time Leo and I reach the bedroom door. He closes it behind us, and his shoulders drop down. “She’s better. Right?”
“A little bit better every day.”
Leo keeps his hand on my arm all the way down the stairs. I’m carrying precious cargo, after all. We don’t have to discuss where we’re going. His den is everyone’s favorite room in the house. That’s because I gave the designers precise instructions for the sofas. More comfortable furniture doesn’t exist.
We sit on the one facing the courtyard window. Leo hesitates for a split second before he rests against the cushions and stretches his legs out next to mine on the ottoman. I pat Abby’s back. I’ve made it a point to learn her favorite rhythm. At least, I hope I have.
One of the birds that lives in Leo’s courtyard lands on the sill and cocks its head. It gives the glass a light, friendly tap.
“She’s sleeping,” Leo says. “Don’t you dare wake her up.”
The bird fluffs its wings and flies away.
“Do you think babies like to swim?” He glances at Abby, who was not woken by the bird. “I do own a heated pool. And the weather’s still nice.”
“I think babies like to be held in warm water. Swimming, I’m not so sure about.”
He rearranges his feet on the ottoman. Cloud shadows dapple the sunlight in his courtyard. The baby sleeps. Even the sound of her breathing is unbearably adorable.
I wonder if Finn will sit with me like this, with our baby asleep in my arms, or if he’ll try to keep his distance. I want the baby doesn’t mean I want you.
“You should just tell me what happened instead of brooding,” Leo says.
“I’m not brooding.”
“One corner of your mouth frowns when you’re thinking about something that bothers you. Something like…I don’t know. Finn Hughes? You still haven’t told me how he proposed.”
I let out a sigh. “With a pitch deck.”
“Pardon?” Leo’s the picture of what the fuck, Eva?
“Well, technically, he tried to tell me we were going to get married at Daphne’s reception. Then, when I refused, he put together a pitch deck. It was essentially a business proposal. He didn’t mean it.”
“So you refused again.”
I turn my body so I can glare at him without disturbing Abby. “You are not judging me for turning him down.”
“I would never do that.” The surprise in Leo’s eyes is instantly replaced with sincerity. “Of course, you don’t have to marry him. You’re extremely rich and extremely capable of doing whatever you want. It’s a little annoying, actually. I’m only good at real estate. You’re good at everything.”
I scoff at him. “But you think marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
Leo’s bird lands on the windowsill again. “Being married would have its advantages. Society is old school and puritanical and so are our parents. I wouldn’t judge you for considering it, even if he did somehow think it was appropriate to give you a pitch deck instead of a ring.”
Abby takes a deep breath, and a heavy feeling sinks deeper into my bones. Being pregnant is tiring. So is keeping secrets. It’s almost always easier to carry them with someone else, and ironically harder not to tell Leo.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
He shifts, putting his arm across the back of the couch and a bit more distance between us so we can see each other’s faces. The way he studies mine says he’s already trying to figure out what it is.
“Well…I have to swear you to secrecy.”
Leo’s eyes widen in teasing shock. “Again? My previous vow was binding in perpetuity.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious. I would never give up your secrets.”
“This one’s not exactly mine.”
He sobers, his eyes traveling down to the baby. “Is it Hughes?”
“The men in his family deal with early-onset dementia.”
Leo tilts his chin. “How early?”
“Their thirties.”
He looks out the window, and I can see the calculations flashing in his eyes. “Hughes Industries is a family company. Daniel Hughes is in his fifties, isn’t he? Younger than Dad. And Finn—”
“They’ve been hiding it. Finn had Power of Attorney documents that would install him as acting CEO at the first sign of trouble. He took over Hughes Industries when he was sixteen.”
Leo’s eyes come back to mine. “Shit. Shit.” His mouth drops open, then closes again. “How could they have kept such a massive secret from everyone while he’s still the CEO?”
“The same way we did. By sticking to our story and making sure people saw what we wanted them to see.”
My brother blinks, and his eyes slide to the corner of the room. They’re distant for a few heartbeats. Then a shudder moves through his body. He’s shaken himself out of the memories.
“Is it bad?”
Geneva’s words replay in my mind. It’s bloody and violent and heartbreaking. Daniel Hughes, shouting, distressed. Finn’s face paling at the docks when the call about his father came in.
“Yeah.” A knot settles in my throat. “And he’s sure the baby is going to be a boy. He’s certain he’ll have the same disease. Which means it’s my concern now, too.”
Leo leans against the couch and runs a hand through his hair. The bird fluffs its feathers in the corner of the window. It taps again. I’m still here. I’m still here. I’m still here.
I don’t have to spell it out for him. He’s already running the scenarios in his head. Another quick breath. Leo puts his arm around my shoulders, careful not to jostle the baby.
“We’ll solve this. We have to.” It’s final. We have to.
“Yeah. I think so, too. But the Hughes have ridiculous amounts of money. They could buy and sell entire pharmaceutical companies, and they haven’t solved it.” Hopelessness I don’t want to feel closes around my heart.